


anything your heart desires

by alwaysenduphere



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Coming Out, Gender Identity, Genderfluid Harry, Genderqueer Character, Harry in Panties, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 21:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4762004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysenduphere/pseuds/alwaysenduphere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's never really thought it through, never really thought about putting it to words and saying it out loud, but he thinks...he thinks it needs said, and maybe now is the time to say it. He thinks a change needs to happen. "What if I told you that sometimes I want my parts to be a lot different from your parts," he finally says, quietly.</p><p>Louis sits back down in his chair, spoon for his cereal rattling against the bowl at the motion. It's the only noise he makes.</p><p>Nick pauses, the lines around his eyes crinkling up a bit as he thinks. He says gently, "Love, I don't think I understand and I want to."</p>
            </blockquote>





	anything your heart desires

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ifeelcelestial](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifeelcelestial/gifts).



> from the prompt: "One member of [ship] is trans/non-binary/genderfluid and struggles with coming out to their partners."
> 
> title from "When You Wish Upon A Star" <3
> 
> fingers crossed this is something close to what you were looking for! tentative apologies for the fade to black blowjob, and i hope the language is okay. thanks to Steph for the beta, who is wonderful. this would be a disaster without her. hopefully it's far less of one now! [thumbs up emoji]

The interviewer asks the question three times before Harry responds. "I like it," he says quietly. He can feel the other three boys' attention settle on him. They're used to Harry taking his time responding, but like the interviewer, they do expect an answer eventually. He doesn't mean to take so long. He'd heard her the first time, but gotten lost thinking about what the question actually meant to him before just settling on the simplest of truths.

"Is it representative of a charity?" she presses, "You've made that sort of gesture before, yeah?" She's clearly hoping for a more articulate follow-up to the seemingly simple question of "why the nail polish?" 

Harry knows it's nice that she's asking about the charity work instead of like, what he's into in girls or how they manage to go anywhere without being recognized, but it also just pings some uncomfortable thing inside him, like it's a bit more invasive than he'd prefer at the moment.

"I like it," he tries again, nervously twisting a ring around his index finger. He watches as the interviewer’s eyes drop down to his hands at the movement. He stops. There's an awkward silence as he looks up and their gazes meet. He just shrugs a bit, an apology of sorts. She frowns before continuing on with her next question, to Liam. Liam's good at covering up awkward silences, Harry knows. Harry doesn't like making people frown, though, so after a bit he sits up and tries to engage, attempting to make everyone laugh telling a story about his mom's cats, but the interviewer doesn't ask any more questions directly to him and he can tell she's not pleased with his answers.

Louis corners him afterward in between interview rooms, the hallway they’re in just as long as the day has felt to Harry, the end right there in sight but never actually close enough to grasp. Wrapping a hand around Harry's wrist, Louis pulls Harry to a stop, his fingers brushing over the dark purple nail polish briefly. Harry thinks about the time he watched Louis paint Phoebe and Daisy's nails in alternating red and green stripes for Christmas and wonders why he's never asked Louis to paint his for him. They'd probably end up neater, after all. He hasn't quite mastered the art of painting with his non-dominant hand.

Louis says, "That was a bit rude and uncharacteristic of you, love. You alright?"

Harry didn't think he was rude. A little distracted, maybe. The question was upsetting in a way he can't quite parse out, like that word on the tip of your tongue that doesn't actually click until three days later. He'd like to brush it off as it's been a long week of promo and some of the questions have just hit the wrong way. He simply likes nail polish. "Fine, I think."

"I like this color, you know," Louis says, still holding Harry's hand. He swings their hands up in front of them, pokes at Harry's fingertips with his other hand, then at Harry's cheek. They don't get to hold hands much anymore, always too busy to be attached for long, or too out in public for it not to create unwanted attention. Harry didn't realize how much he missed it, the way Louis's hand feels around his, small but warm and solid, a grounding line, like it's been since the very beginning. He smiles.

"Thanks," he says, squeezing Louis's hand, then letting their hands fall down to their sides. "I found it in one of Nick's drawers. Someone probably left it over and it got scooped away."

Louis rolls his eyes, but it's fond. "It's a wonder any of us can ever escape his flat with all our things attached."

"’Things’, eh?" Harry smiles slightly, wiggling his eyebrows as lewdly as he can.

"You know what I mean," Louis shoots back.

"I know there's at least two jumpers of yours on the closet floor, so I don't think you've escaped with all your ‘things’ attached, either."

Louis scoffs. "Well if he'd neaten up every once in awhile..."

"Says the messiest person I've ever known. Half the mess is probably yours." Some details about their personalities become exaggerated in the media, Harry knows, and some they exaggerate in between themselves just to take up the time, but Louis being able to take a neat room and turn it into chaos in under an hour is not one of them. It drives both he and Nick mad.

"I hope so, I've been working hard on it."

"I honestly don't know how we put up with you."

"You love me," Louis says, hip checking Harry gently into the hallway wall, their whole bodies touching for a moment before Louis steps back, puts a bit of space between them. They're in public, after all. It's not enough space to look innocent, really, but Harry isn't going to complain.

Harry cups Louis's cheek with his free hand for the briefest of seconds, then pokes him in the side. "Yeah, we do."

"Course you do. I'm great. Really though, are you okay?"

Someone hollers for them down the hallway. Five minutes until the next interview. Louis takes another step back. There's a canyon between them, with an avalanche of sound about to rush its way through. Harry says, “Working through some things, I think. I'll tell you later."

~~~~

They're back home and off tour before it comes up again. Harry's still trying to wrap his mind around the word _home_ , not sure exactly if that's what he wants to call London again, let alone Nick's flat. He and Louis each have their own houses, bigger houses. Places more fit for a relationship made of three. They'll eventually have to address it, but it's a question for another day. Harry's trying to wrap his mind around a lot things right now, really. 

He's staring forlornly at an old magazine when Louis and Nick stumble their way into the kitchen. 

"What's in the news today, Haz, anything I can talk about later to strangers and make myself sound really well-informed?" Louis says, before noticing that it's Heat. He scoffs. "Why do you swipe those from work, Nicholas? Honestly. Do you just want to store them away so you can read about us on a rainy day when we're not around? Spoilers: we're gonna be around for a while," Louis says, setting up his tea and rummaging through the cabinet seemingly at random before Nick steps up and opens the cabinet holding bowls. Louis hasn't quite gotten used to being in this place, either, Harry doesn't think.

"Not unfortunate to me, idiot," Nick says fondly, swatting at Louis's bum before accepting the bowl and tea Louis gets out for him as well. Sometimes Harry still marvels at how the two of them _work_ , slightly proud of how he'd been the driving force to bring them all together. He'd had Louis, then he'd had Nick, and now he has them both. It's nice.

Harry slides the magazine between the two of them as they sit and begin shoveling cereal into their mouths. He wants to say something, but he also wants to hear what they have to say first, and he's not sure what he wants to say or how to get it out. Sometimes it's hard for him to say what he means, especially when it's something important, and especially when these two idiots he loves never shut up.

Nick flips to page eight, the entertainment section. There's a photo of Harry that Harry knows has been used at least three times before: hair pulled back, as it often is these days when he's out late, pieces of it fallen out and curled around his face. It's definitely time to get Lou to give it one of those deep conditioning treatments again, the ends of it slightly lighter than the rest from where they've dried out too much. There's a stain on his jeans from who only knows what and his shirt, as expected, is only buttoned once. "Typical night for you, then," Nick mumbles harmlessly. Harry doesn't say anything, though, just looks at his hands. He remember the day the picture was taken; he wasn’t feeling very comfortable with himself that day, but after spending a lot of time frowning in the mirror, he’d decided to go out anyway. 

He's not sure what he's feeling, now. He should've made himself a bowl of cereal before they came in, so then he'd at least have something to do with his hands in the silence.

They don't seem to notice. Louis hooks his head over Nick's shoulder, practically knocking his cereal bowl off the table to get a look at the magazine. "Ah, there's the blurb. 'Harry Styles, seen wearing next fall's YSL with his hair in a messy bun and a subtle pink nail polish, leaving the club for the fourth time this month.' Well that's not bad, is it?"

Nick snorts. "Pretty tame compared to that time they reported him 'caught with someone's pretty green knickers hanging out of his pocket leaving the very same club', isn't it?"

Harry stops thinking and chooses his moment. "The underwear was mine. Is mine."

Nick doesn't miss a beat, not even looking up from the magazine as he says, "Well at least you have good taste, I suppose," even as Louis is saying, "Come again?"

Harry shakes his head, tilts it back in forth like he's not sure what to say, deciding how to piece what he's feeling together in a way that'll make sense. He's never really thought it through, never really thought about putting it to words and saying it out loud, but he thinks...he thinks it needs said, and maybe now is the time to say it. He thinks a change needs to happen. "What if I told you that sometimes I want my parts to be a lot different from your parts," he finally says, quietly.

Louis sits back down in his chair, spoon for his cereal rattling against the bowl at the motion. It's the only noise he makes.

Nick pauses, the lines around his eyes crinkling up a bit as he thinks. He says gently, "Love, I don't think I understand and I want to."

"Sometimes I don't feel like a male member of society," Harry says tersely, suddenly upset at them for not understanding right away, but also mad at himself for being so complicated. It was supposed to suddenly feel better, saying it out loud.

Louis watches Harry intensely, following Harry’s gaze to the magazine photo. "Does the picture bother you, Harry? Did you feel like a boy when this picture was taken?" Louis asks, quietly.

Harry shakes his head. "No." Harry thinks that he isn’t really bothered by the picture. The picture's nice. The description is nice. It's all...nice. "It doesn't bother me. It's nice. It doesn't make it a big deal that I like my hair up or that I paint my nails. I was afraid if I painted all of them it'd be a big deal but I really liked that color," he rushes out. 

Louis gently closes the magazine.

Nick says, "It's a pretty color, Harry," and Harry positively beams.

Louis adds, off a look from Nick that Harry can't quite interpret, "You know I like the colors you choose."

"Thanks, that one your sister picked out for me!" Harry says, suddenly excited. 

"Lottie?" Harry dims at the confusion in Louis's voice. 

"She's been very helpful," he says, defensive. She’s not done a lot, really, because he’s not really been able to express to _anyone_ how he’s been feeling, but she’s listened as best she could and donated plenty of nail polish and a bit of makeup to his journey.

"I'm sure she has. Way we were raised, us Tomlinsons, always a helping hand," Louis pauses. Harry’s certain Louis has more questions; he can tell by the way Louis purses his lips. "I'm glad she's able to help you, Harry,” he says finally, smiling slightly.

Harry smiles in return, says a chipper "Thanks!" and then bounds away to another room before anyone can say another word, can notice that there’s a panic forming just underneath his surface, a combination of terrifying confusion but also relief at finally saying it all out loud, even if he wasn't sure what 'it' was until that moment.

~~~~

Harry's chipping what's left of the purple nail polish off his thumb the next time he sees Nick, three days later. Nick's not been around a lot lately, busy with radio and X-Factor and about three other projects that may or may not get off the ground. They joke about it a lot, the two of them finally back home and now Nick's the one always on the go. Harry understands Nick's drive and knows he and Louis each have similar, but it makes Harry a bit sad, that there’s a balance of time between the three of them they’ve never quite figured out how to manage. He scratches at a nail, decidedly not thinking about it.

Nick takes off his shoes and tosses them in the direction of the door with a groan. Harry wants to make a joke about being the happy housewife while Nick's out bringing home the bacon, but the thought of being a housewife sits uncomfortable on the tip of his tongue. 

Nick flops down next to Harry and flings a leg over Harry’s arms, knocking the polish particles all over the place. Harry sighs and makes a mental note to sweep up the mess later. Nick says, "Not feeling it today?"

Harry shakes his head. "Just want a different color. Lottie gave me a green I want to try now, but I don't want to just paint over this one."

Nick swings around, pulling Harry closer to him, and takes one of his hands. "We can buy you some polish remover, you know? Maybe get a little box for you to keep your own polish in, so you can stop stealing Lottie's. I've got some lotion around here too that would probably help these calluses," he says, rubbing gently at Harry's fingertips. Harry's been writing more lately, in the downtime. He's still learning his way around a guitar without Niall constantly there to guide him along, and it shows.

Harry's never thought about a box for his own polishes. He's never thought about starting his own collection. He can do that now; it's not a secret anymore. Though he supposes it was never a secret so much as he didn't know how to say it out loud.

He smiles, picking off another chunk of polish. "I'd like that."

~~~~

It's over a week later when Harry stumbles into the bedroom in the middle of the night, back from a stag do for a friend from Holmes Chapel. He maybe has had more to drink than was really necessary, and he hits his shin on the bed corner, mumbling an "ouch" as he flops into the bed. 

"Hey. Suck my dick," he mumbles in Louis's ear as he's nudging him awake, then giggles. He tries for a half apology when he shoves Nick over so he can curl in between the two of them.

"Back to boy again, huh, Styles?" Nick says, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him in, throat scratchy from sleep, and Harry gets a small thrill at how casually Nick says it, like it's not a complicated thing to wrap one's mind around. Maybe it's really not.

"I'm a real boy now," Harry giggles, his voice tilting high.

"But tomorrow you might not be, eh, Pinocchio," Louis murmurs against the pillow.

"Nope," Harry replies, popping the 'p.'

Louis groans and rolls over, his hair flat on one side and spiky on the other. Harry flops a hand up to run his fingers through it, possibly too violently as Louis flinches before eventually pushing back against Harry's hand. "My hair's better," Harry states.

"Expect to get your dick sucked with that kind of language?" Louis retorts, crawling down the bed even as he says it. His hair's everywhere, his eyes are sleepy and his face has a pillow crease, and Harry loves him so much.

"Yes," Harry says, "Yes I do.” And then, poking a finger in Nick’s direction, adds, “And you can watch. Put on those glasses."

Nick chuckles and kisses Harry gently on the cheek, and Harry loves him so much as well. "Well thank you, I feel honored, but some of us have to work in the morning. Multiple jobs, as a matter of fact."

"You always have to work," Harry pouts. He knows Nick isn't going to just roll over and go to sleep while Louis gives what will probably be an incredible blowjob, but it's still not nice to tease. "It's not nice to tease," he declares out loud.

"Not teasing, love. Not all of us can be glamourous popstars."

"Yeah let him get his beauty sleep. He needs it, have you seen that face?" Louis says.

"Heyyyyyy," Nick says, reaching for his glasses.

Harry laughs, his boys bickering around him. "Three boys in one bed," he says to them.

"Yeah, Haz. Three boys."

Louis presses him firmly down into the bed with a hand, and Harry gets the message. He wiggles against Nick's warm form next to him, burrowing into a bed that will never be big enough for all three of them no matter what size it actually is, flattening his back and tilting his hips up so Louis can take off his jeans. 

"Well," Louis says succinctly, after a moment of absolute silence. Nick peers down the bed, clearly wondering what could possibly startle Louis, and Harry can feel the sharp inhale against his side the moment Nick notices Harry is wearing knickers. Ha, Harry thinks.

"I like how they feel," Harry shrugs, answering the bewildered look on Nick's face.

"They're a nice pair," Nick croaks out.

"You're gonna watch now, aren't you," Harry says cheekily. 

Nick sighs, exasperated but fond. "I always was gonna watch, and you know it. I put on me glasses and everything."

"My sister didn't help you pick those out, did she?" Louis says, looking up the bed at Harry through heavy eyes. "Because I want to say you look fucking fit in them but I'm not sure I can if I know she helped?"

Nick sighs again. "Then why'd you ask, you idiot?"

Harry wonders idly which of the three of them sighs the most at the other two. "Lottie got them for me, yes," Harry says, over them both. 

"Well," Louis says, "She has good taste." They're simple things, cotton and mint green with polka dots and two little bows landing almost exactly at the tip of each of Harry's laurel tattoos. Lottie said she'd gotten them for exactly that reason, but Harry also enjoyed how the green stood out on his tanned skin.

"You like them?" Harry says shyly. He can’t decide whether to focus on Nick or Louis, both their reactions equally exciting. Their attention is maddening and it's exactly what he wanted, but also more than he expected, somehow. His cock is very hard. Louis rubs at him through the soft cotton, and Harry jerks against Nick's side.

Louis says, "Of course I do. Just, s'all a bit new, this. Not used to seeing my boy wearing knickers."

“‘My boy,’” Harry echoes, smiling, "Wasn't feeling like a boy when I put em on this morning. Do now. Still like 'em, really. Don't matter, sometimes. I just like to wear 'em," Harry says. He slurs on his words a bit, but he doesn't feel nearly as drunk as he did when he stumbled in, not with both them watching him. Louis is rubbing a circle against his thigh, finger brushing up against the material, and it's very distracting. "Don't take em off," he blurts.

Louis smiles mischievously. "A boy after my own heart. Wasn't planning to. Think I'll just shove 'em down actually. Might ruin em, a bit."

"Oh," Harry breathes. "They're my only pair."

"We can buy you more," Nick says. He's turned to his side and propped himself up on one arm, so he's slightly above Harry. He's stroking Harry's side gently with his other hand.

"I'd like that," Harry replies, tilting his head up as if asking for a kiss. Nick complies. Louis starts jacking him slowly, his hand loose and dry around Harry's cock. Harry reaches out for him, but he can't quite touch. He whines. "Your mouth, please."

"Polite as always, I see," Louis says, stilling his hand and tightening his grip. "But you've just woke me up so I think we'll go at my speed, love."

Nick adds, "And, since I hate feeling like a left out third party..." Nick pulls Harry's hands above his head, kisses him again, and holds them there. Harry can feel Nick's cock growing hard against his side. "...these are staying right here while he blows you."

"Good plan, Nicholas."

"But just to be clear, there is a blowjob in my future?" Harry can't help but ask.

"That is what you asked for, after all," Louis says, his mouth close enough to Harry's cock that Harry can feel Louis's breath through the thin cotton of the knickers. Harry flinches. "These are in the way now, aren't they?" Louis says, mouthing at them a bit, getting the material wet.

"Lew-is," Harry cries out, hips jumping off the bed in surprise.

"None of that," Nick says, tightening his grip on Harry's arms above his head. Harry wishes Nick would use his other hand to hold him down to the bed as well, but he gets the message regardless. He tries to relax and settle back down on the bed. "Good boy."

~~~~

They're having a lazy day, all three of them with clear schedules for once, not a meeting or conference call on the books and taking full advantage of the day off, crammed on the sofa together in sweatpants. They've made it through three episodes of an old season of Bake-Off when Louis brings up pronouns. "I've been doing some research," he says, and immediately Harry feels a surge of love towards him. "And I don't want to hurt you or confuse you anymore than you probably are some days," he says, and Harry immediately interrupts.

"It's not really confusing now that I can tell you how I'm feeling and you understand," he says, curling into Louis. Louis throws an arm around Harry and pulls him even closer, causing Nick to complain that Louis is stealing his foot warmer and scoot closer to the both of them. It's a pattern that's recurred three times already today and it makes Harry feel wonderful, like the heat he's radiating to them is caused by their exasperated fondness of each other.

"Well I'm not sure 'understands' is the right word, but 'accept' certainly is,” Louis allows, “Plus I just want to make sure you're okay."

Harry beams. "I'm great, really."

"Are we a lad or lass today?" Nick asks, pausing the telly as it rolls into yet another Bake-Off episode. Harry wonders briefly if the two of them practiced this conversation before initiating it before internally scoffing at the idea; neither of them is good at planning ahead.

He can't decide between the options presented. "Maybe neither? That's an option too, sometimes, I think," he says sheepishly.

"Okay," Louis says tentatively, but Harry doesn't like the hesitance.

"You get that it's not just about the nail polish or how nice my hair looks, right? It's like. Inside, me. I feel. What I feel changes. What I am. Do you get that?"

Louis nods sharply. "Yeah, love. Absolutely.”

"Genderfluid, is the term the internet used. I helped with the research," Nick adds. 

"And we know the internet is always correct on these things," Louis continues with a sarcastic chuckle, "so using the internet's advice, I have a question." Harry nods in permission. "Do you have a preferred pronoun? Like, if you tell us you're having a girl day we could say 'she feels like a girl,' in reference to you, if you'd like."

"Honestly though, I really just prefer shouting ‘HEY YOU!’ at your face as loudly as possible," Nick says, and Louis glares, relaxing slightly when Harry huffs out a chuckle. 

Harry can tell they're trying very hard to understand something he's not sure he quite understands himself. He takes a minute to think about the question, slightly thrown by the option. No one's ever asked Harry this before, and he's never really thought about it. The two of them wait patiently for his answer, used to Harry taking his time. "I think...'he' is just easier, isn't it?"

Nick nudges Harry's foot, "S'not what we're asking, love. Don't matter what's easy. Matters what you want."

Harry studies his toes for a moment, looking at the spot on his foot Nick's foot just touched and trying to figure out what gender his foot looks like. It's a silly thought and he knows it, and it's a question that doesn't have a specific yes or no answer. "I think...I think 'he' still works. It _is _easier, but also less confusing? Like, for you and for me. I think if I heard you say ‘she doesn't like it’ I might not realize you were talking about me. I mean, I am. I'm a boy. Just sometimes." Harry frowns.__

__The idea of choosing pronouns is something he’s never thought about, almost too huge and definitely too confusing, and Harry can feel his chest tighten around his inner struggle. Louis must notice as well because when he speaks, his voice is gentle, calming. "Okay, love. We'll do that then. But if you ever want something else, feel free to tell us.”_ _

__Harry nods. He wants to them how wonderful and unexpectedly gentle and sweet they’ve been, how important their acceptance despite their confusion has been to him, but he’s too overwhelmed to find the words. "Thank you," he manages instead, and curls in even closer to Louis on the couch, tucking his feet in behind Nick, who complains only out of habit. There's elbows and knees all overlapping and tangled and at least a quarter of the sofa unoccupied. It's nice, Harry thinks. It's home._ _


End file.
